


Under the Weather

by enigmaticblue



Series: Sun 'Verse [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Cas gets sick is an ordeal for everybody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt, “minor illness”. Set sometime in the winter of 2012.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered how the hell Cas did it all. Granted, Dean was capable of cooking and looking after the kids, and getting all the other stuff done, but he’d never had to do it all at once, while taking care of a sick partner, too.

 

“Papa Dean!” Henry shouted. “Come look!”

 

“I don’t have time right now, Henry,” Dean called. “I’m trying not to burn dinner.”

 

That last was muttered under his breath, but Cas heard it from the doorway of the kitchen. “You want me to stir the soup?”

 

“No, I want you to go lay down,” Dean snapped. “Dammit, Cas, I told you.”

 

“You told me to rest, which I’ve been doing for the last four days,” Cas replied. “I’m fine.” His assurances were spoiled by the coughing fit that overtook him as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

 

“You’re about two steps away from developing pneumonia,” Dean shot back. “So, get the fuck back on the couch.”

 

“I feel much better,” Cas protested.

 

“You’re lying,” Dean replied. “Seriously, I am not taking you to the hospital, so get back on the fucking couch.”

 

Cas frowned. “But—”

 

“No.” Dean put as much force as he could behind that one word. “The thing about minor illnesses is that they can turn into major ones if you’re not careful. Remember last winter with Bobby?”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Cas protested.

 

Dean sighed. “Yeah, you will be. If you do what I say. Now, _go_.”

 

Cas sighed deeply and headed back to the living room, which was a small victory. The problem was that Cas just couldn’t lie down and _stay_ down, mostly because he was worried about Dean overdoing it on his leg.

 

Overdoing it was a possibility for both of them. Right now, Dean’s leg was throbbing insistently, with the occasional sharp, stabbing pain to keep things interesting. So, while Cas was right about the risk of Dean aggravating his old injury, Dean would survive. But pneumonia, which was what that chest infection was threatening to become, could kill Cas, particularly when they didn’t have ready access to medical care.

 

And, while Dean had no problem taking over until Cas was back on his feet, he had no intention of raising three kids by himself without Cas around, just because Cas wanted to be a stubborn bastard.

 

At least the chicken noodle soup seemed to be coming along nicely. The rich scent had filled the house, and Dean wished he’d thought to make fresh bread to go along with the soup.

 

Okay, Dean wished he’d thought to procure fresh bread, because he knew better than to think he had a chance of making it correctly the first time out.

 

Maybe biscuits, Dean thought. He could probably throw together some biscuits.

 

“Dad!” Ben called from the front of the house. “Maryanne is here!”

 

Maryanne came bustling into the kitchen, a covered basket in her hands. “I heard Cas was down with a bug.”

 

“A bug that’s threatening to turn into pneumonia, judging by his cough,” Dean grumbled. “How’d you hear?”

 

Maryanne shrugged. “Howl said you’d come by to see if he had any antibiotics fit to give a human, and I put two and two together. How is the patient?”

 

“Stubborn,” Dean replied. “And he’s not used to taking it easy.”

 

Maryanne smiled. “Then you’re having a hard time keeping him quiet.”

 

“You could say that,” Dean replied. “What have you got?”

 

“Fresh bread.”

 

“Maryanne, you are a saint and a mind reader,” Dean replied emphatically. “Bless you.”

 

“Go on, I’ll take care of your soup. You distract Cas.”

 

Dean had no idea how he was supposed to do that, but he was grateful for the chance to sit down and put his leg up. He grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, even though he knew that meant he could look forward to a lecture, and limped into the living room.

 

Cas was stretched out on the couch, propped up on pillows to ease his breathing, his eyes closed and mouth open. Cas looked a little haggard, even in sleep, his eyes shadowed by dark circles and with several days’ worth of stubble on his face. He looked terribly vulnerable, and so very human.

 

Dean never thought he’d wish for the days when Cas was an angel, but he did right at that moment. As an angel, Cas had been nearly invulnerable, and Dean thought it might be nice to have one less person to worry about.

 

He settled into the chair next to the couch, propping up his bad leg on the coffee table and draping the ice pack over his knee. Dean leaned back in his chair and just took the opportunity to watch Cas; he didn’t get the chance often. They were usually too busy moving from one minor crisis to the next—skinned knees, squabbles, running out of clean clothes.

 

There had been one memorable day when they’d all run around in nothing but gym shorts because the laundry situation had become so dire, but it had been summer, and no one had minded. They’d enjoyed the hot sun on their bare skin, staying close to the house while they washed clothing and hung it out to dry.

 

Today, there was an icy wind blowing outside with a hint of snow, and the past few days had worn down Dean’s endurance. He didn’t have the energy to deal with even the smallest emergencies.

 

Dean felt his breathing slow to match Cas’, and he let himself zone out, listening to Cas’ slightly wheezy breaths, the wind howling outside, and the low voices of Maryanne and the kids in the kitchen.

 

Cas woke up with a start about fifteen minutes after Dean sat down. He glanced around, zeroing in on Dean, his eyes immediately going to Dean’s bum leg and the ice pack. Cas’ eyebrows went up.

 

“I’m fine,” Dean assured him. “It’s just the same old.”

 

Cas seemed to hesitate, but he apparently decided to drop the matter. “Did I hear Maryanne?”

 

“You did,” Dean replied. “She brought fresh bread.”

 

Cas smiled. “Great.”

 

“I thought so.” Dean adjusted his ice pack. “How are you feeling?”

 

“In another day or two, I’ll be back on my feet,” Cas assured him.

 

Dean eyed Cas. “I’m not worried about _when_ you’re on your feet. I just want you to be healthy.”

 

“It’s not fair—” Cas began.

 

“And it was fair for you to shoulder the responsibility when I was laid up and Bobby and Ben were sick?” Dean demanded. “Seriously?”

 

Cas grimaced. “Fair point.”

 

“When you’re family, you take care of each other,” Dean said, thinking of Sam as the words left his mouth. He felt the familiar ache start up, and then he ruthlessly shoved it to one side.

 

Cas smiled. “I’m not worried about being taken care of. I’m just—I wish I could help you more.”

 

“What did you tell me when I was laid up?” Dean asked.

 

Cas sighed. “That if you didn’t rest, you’d never be able to use your leg again.”

 

“And the lack of a leg is one thing, but the lack of your lungs is something completely different,” Dean pointed out.

 

Cas nodded, leaning back against the cushions supporting him. “Okay, yes. I get it. How are the kids?”

 

“To be honest, I have no idea,” Dean said. “With any luck, they’re not killing each other, or destroying anything.”

 

Cas grinned. “They’re good kids. They’ll be fine.”

 

“Let’s hope so,” Dean muttered.

 

Ben came into the living room, his eyes darting from Cas to the ice pack on Dean’s knee. “Maryanne said to tell you dinner’s ready.”

 

Dean set the ice pack aside. “Tell her we’ll be right in,” he replied, not really wanting to move, but not wanting to worry the kids.

 

Ben was at Dean’s side in a flash, lending Dean a hand up. Ben had shot up another few inches in the last year, and Dean could tell he’d gotten a lot stronger, too. “I’ll get the others to bed tonight, Dad,” Ben said.

 

“You don’t have to do that, son,” Dean objected.

 

Ben shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

 

“We appreciate it, Ben,” Cas said quietly.

 

Ben ducked his head. “It’s cool.”

 

Dinner would probably have been a quiet affair if Maryanne hadn’t been present. She listened to Henry’s chatter and drew Ben out. Mary followed the conversation raptly; she was too busy eating to talk. Cas mostly focused on his meal, and Dean could see his energy flagging; Dean knew Cas was irritated with his weakness, but he needed to rest if he was going to get back on his feet.

 

When every last drop of broth had been sopped up with fresh bread, the kids started clearing the table without being asked. Cas stood, as though to help, and Mary quickly signed, “No. We’ll do it.”

 

Dean glanced out the window and winced when he saw that the snow was beginning to come down. “Not that I want to chase you out, Maryanne—”

 

She smiled. “I’ve got to be going. Cas, you take it easy, you hear me?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Cas murmured with a smile.

 

“I’ll walk you out,” Dean said. When they’d reached the door, Dean pulled Maryanne into an impromptu hug. “Thank you.”

 

Maryanne snorted. “You fed me. I just brought the bread.” She pressed a bottle into Dean’s hands. “I thought that might help.”

 

Dean glanced at the label and realized she’d brought cough syrup with codeine. “This’ll knock him out.”

 

“It’s the best thing for him,” she said briskly. “What’s more, it should suppress that cough so you can get some sleep, too. Don’t forget—you have to take care of yourself, or you’ll be the next one to get sick.”

 

Dean scratched at his beard. “I think I’ve already had it. It’s just been waiting for a chance to get the drop on Cas.”

 

“He’s a bit more resilient than most,” Maryanne agreed. “But he’s not Superman.”

 

“I’ll let you be the one to convince him of that, because I’m not having much luck.”

 

Maryanne patted him on the cheek. “Don’t be too sure of that. You’re doing a fine job.”

 

Dean smiled. “Couldn’t do it without you, Maryanne.”

 

“And don’t you forget it,” she said with a smile and a wink.

 

Dean grinned as she left, and then headed for the kitchen. Ben was finishing the last of the dishes. “I told Henry I’d read to him tonight,” Ben said as he put the last plate in the cupboard. “Cas went up to take a shower. I told him that’s what my mom made me do when I had a chest cold.”

 

“Good idea,” Dean replied.

 

Ben hitched a shoulder. “Think I’ll go up. ‘Night, Dad.”

 

“Good night, son.” Dean snagged Ben as he passed, pulling him into a rough hug, and then he stood in the kitchen for long minutes, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky.

 

Shaking himself out of his tired fog, Dean headed up to bed. True to his word, Ben was reading to Henry in their shared room, and when Dean peeked through the cracked door, he saw Henry already tucked into his loft bed, and Mary stretched out next to Ben.

 

Ben’s voice rose and fell steadily, relaying the tale of Bilbo Baggins and his wanderings. Dean paused, just watching them for a moment, and then he moved down the hall to his bedroom.

 

Cas sat on the edge of the bed, dressed only in his boxers, and Dean sat down next to him. “Here,” he said, handing over the bottle. “Down a couple swallows of this.”

 

Cas read the label and gave Dean a dubious look, but he didn’t argue. “This is going to knock me out,” he commented.

 

“That’s what I said,” Dean replied. “But you’ve been coughing a lot at night, and this will help.”

 

Cas winced. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Cas, it’s cool. But if you sleep, you’ll heal.”

 

Cas raised the bottle in a vague salute and took a couple of swallows, grimacing at the taste. “Maybe I should sleep on the couch.”

 

“Nah,” Dean replied easily. “I want you where I can keep an eye on you. I’m going to get ready for bed. Go to sleep, huh?”

 

“I’m pretty tired,” Cas admitted.

 

“Then go to sleep.” Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ lips, lingering a bit just because he could, and then nudged Cas under the covers.

 

By the time he’d brushed his teeth, the light in Ben’s room was off, and the kids were quiet. When Dean slipped back inside their bedroom, Cas was on his back, sprawled out, snoring a bit.

 

Dean grinned at the sight, and he slipped under the covers, nudging Cas until he rolled over on his side. Dean moved in behind him, throwing an arm around Cas’ waist to hold him in place.

 

Cas’ breathing deepened, evening out as he slipped deeper into sleep, and Dean sighed in contentment.

 

In another week or two, Cas would be completely recovered, and Dean would have his partner back. That’s all he really wanted.


End file.
